


Calling

by sekiharatae



Series: Behind Closed Doors [11]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-07-05
Updated: 2010-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekiharatae/pseuds/sekiharatae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tifa's tired of waiting for Cloud to make a move and take things to the next level. What happens if she uses the phone to give him a little incentive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Call Forward

Propping her elbow on the bar and resting her chin in her cupped hand, Tifa contemplated the telephone at the end of the counter. The dinner rush had come and gone, the clock slowly ticking its way toward closing, and only a few customers still lingered over drinks and conversation. It was quiet, which afforded her plenty of time to think... and there was really only one topic her mind was inclined to mull over for any length:

Cloud.

The man of her dreams (despite the things Yuffie claimed that said about the state of her imagination) and her long-time crush. They were together now – finally – and things were moving forward.

Slowly.

Too slowly.

At first, she'd appreciated that he wasn't trying to rush her. Although he'd been serious about their relationship before – had, apparently, always been serious – she'd misunderstood or he'd miscommunicated and instead things between them had foundered. This time he was making sure she knew what he wanted and where they were going, and she couldn't fault him for it.

But it was no longer enough.

She found her thoughts lingering long and often over the way he moved; had caught herself daydreaming about the way he sometimes watched her – blue eyes hot and intent. At night her mind would dwell on their time together under the _Highwind_ , when he'd used his body to tell her how he felt, loving her long and slow and thoroughly. Their relationship had always been fraught with sexual tension, but lately her body practically vibrated with it, clamoring for attention. His kisses had gradually shifted from sweet and chaste to hot and open and hungry, and she wanted everything they promised.

He was already her partner in every way but one, and now she wanted that, too. She wanted him to be her lover.

Earlier in the evening she'd found a plain little white business card while clearing tables. On it was listed the name and number for one of the area's classier singles' lines: the kind that advertized conversation and downplayed the fact that most everyone using it was talking about sex.

It had given her an idea. One that was a little bit naughty, a little risque, and a whole lot forward... but if it engendered the reaction she wanted? Well... nothing ventured, nothing gained. She could even try it out that very night – before she lost her nerve – since Cloud was out of town on a two-day delivery. A little message left on his phone to tell him how she felt, and he could take it from there.

At least... that was the plan, or as much of one as she currently had.

Once Denzel and Marlene were both safely tucked in bed and the bar was closed, she acted on her sudden burst of daring. Fresh out of the shower she padded into Cloud's bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her. It wasn't the first time she'd slept in his room while he was away, taking comfort from the lingering scent of man and mako that clung to his pillow and bed linens. It was, however, the first time she'd ventured to do anything more.

Dropping her towel she slipped between the sheets, then reached for the items she'd left on his bedside table. While cleaning the room earlier in the week she'd found an old pair of his gloves, the leather intact but too worn to offer any real protection. She'd saved them without knowing why, discovering only later – when, on a whim, she'd tried them on – that Cloud and the feel of leather sliding carefully over her skin were indelibly linked in her mind. The realization had left her feeling both kinky and flushed, but since he wore them more often than not, it made a certain amount of sense. Wriggling to get comfortable, she hit the speed dial on the phone and activated the hands-free feature. As the phone rang and the tinny voice mail message began to play, she donned the overly large gloves, hoping they would help her pretend that it was his hands, his fingers, touching her.

"Cloud," she murmured after the prompting beep, "I called to tell you I'm _lonely_." She'd rehearsed some of what she planned to say while in the shower, until she felt she could manage exactly the right combination of pouty emphasis and breathless want. "So _very_ lonely," she continued, shifting lower in the bed, making sure the sheets rustled and the springs creaked faintly in order to paint him a picture, "and it's all your fault." She gave a longing but petulant sigh. "My skin is all flushed and tingling after my shower, but you're not here to touch me. The water touched me _everywhere,_ sliding warm, liquid fingers all over my body, but even with the spray coming down hard and insistent, it wasn't enough." A slow, languorous stretch generated another series of faint squeals from the bed. "I need so much more, Cloud. That's why I'm in your room now, all tangled up in your sheets." Another sigh, this one instilled with all the pent-up desire she could. "Naked, Cloud. I'm in your bed, aching and needy and _naked_."

Imagining him swallowing convulsively at that tidbit of information, Tifa closed her eyes to better envision his mako-blue gaze following her every move. "Your bed is narrow, but you'd be willing to share with me, wouldn't you?" Her tone was innocent, with just a hint of tease. "You could be my blanket," she added, "and I could be your pillow." Turning her head, she breathed her next suggestion directly into the mouthpiece of the phone: "Or would you rather it be the other way around? I could ride you, directing your motion the way you guide Fenrir." She was certain the communion between man and machine was a metaphor for sex, and hoped his hips lurched at her suggestion.

Sliding gloved hands down to cup her breasts, Tifa pretended it was his fingers squeezing so gently, and was not surprised when her rosy nipples hardened almost instantly. "Mmmm," the sound that escaped her throat was both breathy and eager. "No, I think I want to be underneath you," she decided, "so I can enjoy the way your body presses me into the mattress as you take me." Stroking her thumbs over her nipples, the sensation slick and teasing, gloves rasping against the sheets, she moaned. "And your mouth, Cloud. I want to feel your mouth, too. Hot and open against my breasts as you thrust deep, making me even more desperate." As she spoke, the fingers of her left hand tugged lightly at one taut peak, while her right slid lower, between her legs.

"I'm touching myself, Cloud," she whispered, trusting that enhanced hearing would be able to pick out her words, "I'm in your bed, wrapped in your sheets, touching myself." She drew a shuddering breath and exhaled slowly, surprised at how her own words affected her. "I wish _you_ were touching me," she added, gasping a little at the brush of leather over moist, eager flesh. "I _need_ you to touch me." It was simple truth: she needed deft fingers to search and tease and caress until she couldn't think. A whimper escaped before she could bite it back. _"Please_ , Cloud..." Briefly, she lost herself in the feel of leather drawing firm circles over her aroused bud, testing the ready moisture pooling between her thighs. Arching into her hand, she pressed her head hard into the pillow, causing the phone to slip until it came to rest against her face, reminding her that she had – or would have – an audience. "If you were here, you'd take care of me, I know you would," she assured him, voice strained and breathy. "But right now I'm alone, wearing your gloves, and only imagining that it's you touching me." Another whimper, followed by a groan as she writhed under her own ministrations. "It's not working, Cloud. Not really. Your fingers are longer and thicker. Stronger. Your cock would be better still. I'm so _empty_ , Cloud." The mewl that followed was only partially feigned, her body ready and willing, just so long as he was the one doing the taking.

For several moments after that, her message degenerated into heavy breathing and ambient sounds as she touched and stroked and played her body to orgasm. When she came, she gave a gasping sigh, then picked up the phone with trembling fingers. "It's still not enough, Cloud," she told him, breathing uneven from her self-pleasuring. "I need _you_. I need you to take me, fill me, make me lose control." Her tone was wistful and throaty, shuddering with unsatisfied demand. "I want to scream for you," she softly confessed, "I want to feel free, and lost, and complete. Satiated and safe. That's what I want whenever I look at you or talk to you or call to tell you good night." She hesitated, then decided against admitting anything more. As it was, she was probably going to die of embarrassment as soon as her bravado faded, or whenever she saw him again, whichever came first.

"Good night, Cloud," she whispered, ending the call. Removing the gloves she snuggled back under the covers, staring into the dark as she waited for sleep to come.

An hour later, the phone rang.


	2. Call Waiting

Holding his phone in one hand, Cloud unlocked his hotel room with the other, and shouldered the door open to nudge his duffle inside with his foot. "You have one new message," the pleasant but vaguely electronic voice of the mail system announced as he kicked the door shut behind him. Knowing it was from Tifa – the last five missed calls had all been from Seventh Heaven – he pressed the button to listen.

Taking a seat on the end of the bed, he began removing his boots as he waited for the message to start. When it did, his hand jerked in surprise, almost ripping the zipper free from his left shoe.

"Cloud," Tifa said, "I called to tell you I'm _lonely_."

Her voice was teasing, deliberately sexy, and blatantly inviting. Abruptly deciding the boots could wait, he straightened and focused all of his attention on the soft, feminine voice coming from the phone.

And... was that rustling in the background? The metallic squeak of springs?

"My skin is all flushed and tingling after my shower, but you're not here to touch me. The water touched me _everywhere..."_

He swallowed, knowing exactly what she was implying, hands itching to run over her body in a much more firm and tangible way. He was also _positive_ those were bedsprings creaking in the background. Her next words confirmed it.

"I need so much more, Cloud. That's why I'm in your room now, all tangled up in your sheets." She paused and gave a little sigh that went straight to his groin. "Naked, Cloud. I'm in your bed, aching and needy and _naked_."

Shiva douse him in ice water, was she _trying_ to drive him crazy? He could picture it far too easily: long, dark hair against the white of his pillow; soft, worn fabric outlining the curves of her breasts and draping sweetly along hips and thighs; nipples proud and pointed, her mound a darker shadow.

Tifa didn't stop there, however. While he was still mentally engaged in imagining her in his bed, she went on to detail lascivious little fantasies in which the two of them shared it. "I could ride you, directing your motion the way you guide Fenrir," she breathed, and his erection jerked in approval, a small groan escaping him.

When she told him in a whisper that she was touching herself, he realized he was doing the same, gloved palm rubbing against his length through his pants. By the time the message ended, he'd unfastened them to take himself in hand, stroking in time to the soft sounds coming from the phone as Tifa found release.

"It's still not enough, Cloud," she gasped, breathing uneven from her self-pleasuring. "I need _you_. I need you to take me, fill me, make me lose control." Her tone was wistful and throaty, shuddering with unsatisfied demand. "I want to scream for you," she softly confessed, "I want to feel free, and lost, and complete. Satiated and safe. That's what I want whenever I look at you or talk to you or call to tell you good night." There was a long pause, and then she sighed three more words, a wealth of meaning behind them: "Good night, Cloud."

He sat for a moment lost in a haze of arousal, phone still pressed to his ear, until the tinny voice of the mail system kicked in, prompting him to save or delete the message. Opting for the former – if he didn't _already_ save all of the personal messages from Tifa, he'd still have kept _this_ one – he ended the call, then stared at the phone display while he tried to collect himself. It was far easier said than done: his reflection in the mirror across the room revealed eyes that were a ring of hot, electric blue around dilated pupils, their expression hungry and almost feral; while his open pants and skewed shirt put his arousal on display, his length blatantly eager and unsatisfied. Mako enhancements kept his heart from racing and his breath from coming fast, but his mouth was dry, pre-cum was starting to slick the head of his erection, and everything in him clamored for release.

It would be so easy to stroke himself off, give himself a small measure of relief. Easy, but every bit as unsatisfying as Tifa's efforts at self-gratification had proven. What he really wanted was to call her back, talk her to climax for their mutual satisfaction.

Was that what she wanted? How did she expect him to respond?

They were supposed to be taking things slowly. His leaving had hurt her, and it took time to repair bruised feelings and broken trust. Tifa deserved more than a smile and a nod and a rescue, or the clasp of his hand and the apology in his eyes.

Or so he'd thought.

Now, though... now she'd told him – in detail – exactly what she needed, what she wanted, and it definitely wasn't _time_. She wanted _him_ : in every way he could give himself, in every way she could take him.

If he were there – if he were _home_ , he'd do his damnedest to give her all of that and then some. This – phone sex – was the next best thing. So why not?

 _Aside from the fact that I'm not anyone's idea of a smooth talker and almost never call._

He grimaced at his reflection in response to the thought, running his still-gloved hand through his hair in agitation. Abruptly stripping the leather from his fingers, he tossed it to join its hastily-discarded partner on the bed, then began removing his boots again while he argued with himself.

Tifa wasn't the forward type. It had no doubt taken a great deal of courage and frustration on her part for her to give him such a very obvious go ahead. He shouldn't be... dragging his feet about calling her back.

Pulling his dusty shirt over his head, he unfastened his belt, still trying to make up his mind. To gather his courage. As if whispering sexy suggestions to the woman he loved was more frightening than dealing with the monsters and such he encountered on the road _daily_.

His inner sarcasm was both blunt and scathing.

 _Man up, Strife._

The know-how and experience were there, in his head, and the words... it felt like the words would come when he needed them. They usually did, when it was important.

Tifa was, and always would be, important.

Decision made, he padded to the bathroom for a quick shower, then settled himself on the lumpy hotel mattress to call home.

Her voice, when she answered, was drowsy. "Hello?"

"Tifa." His was husky, nothing less than a statement of intent, lacing the syllables of her name with banked desire.

There was a hesitation on the other end of the line, the answering whisper of his name breathy and uncertain when finally it came.

She hadn't expected him to call back so soon.

Unconsciously, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile at the realization, picturing her brown eyes soft with sleep and wide with surprise.

"Mmn," he offered in wordless agreement, slouching farther down against the headboard and making an effort to tamp down his ardor in light of her startled response. For him, it was like she'd just called; for her, it had been at least an hour, maybe more. Enough for her to misplace her earlier daring; he'd have to give her time - and a reason - to find it again. "Did I wake you?"

"What?" The one-word question was confused, flustered. Only Cloud could turn her girlish and stupid with a single call, a single question. The nervousness she'd pushed aside earlier was back with a vengeance, and a little mental voice began berating her for a fool. _What does he think of me now? Was I too forward? Why couldn't I just leave it alone!_

"I guess I did," he murmured when she failed to say anything else.

Curled on her side, sheets clutched close to her chest with the hand not holding the phone, Tifa swallowed, allowing his calm tone to ease her doubts. "It's fine, Cloud," she said, striving for something close to normal. "Did you need something?" _Do you need me?_ Something in his voice hinted that he did.

This time the pause was from his end, the silence considering. "Tifa..." he began, and the timbre – soft but deep and filled with restrained want – was one she hadn't heard in far too long, "I spend most of my day – every day – trying _not_ to think about certain things, and then you leave that message..." he broke off, and she heard him take a deep breath.

Her fingers tightened around the phone as she listened to his long, soft exhale.

"I'm hard and ready," he told her, blunt but still with that edge of toe-curling, patient need, "and it's your fault."He deliberately echoed her words back to her, trying to send the same message. Running a hand through his still damp hair, he gave a low, almost rueful chuckle. "It's _always_ been your fault, but it's _doubly so_ tonight." Every sexual thought he'd ever entertained had been focused on her.

"Cloud..." she whispered, poorly sated urges slowly reigniting as he spoke, "I..."

"I want to be there, with you, on that cramped bed, sharing the space," he said, overriding any urge she might have to apologize for something he never – _ever_ – wanted her to regret. It wasn't her fault his horny, mako-pickled brain was fixated, and he didn't want it any other way.

He didn't want _her_ to want it any other way.

"I want to feel your breasts against my chest, let my hand ride your thigh as you wrap your legs high and tight around my waist." A catch of breath filtered through his phone's earpiece, accompanied by the faint sound of fabric sliding against skin as she shifted beneath his sheets. "I want to settle against you, let you feel exactly how badly I want to take you."

"Tell me," she urged, finding her earlier courage, and wanting – needing – to hear the words. "Tell me instead."

"Tell you what? How much I need you?"

"Yes."

"Tell you what I'd do if I were there? How I'd touch you?"

" _Yes_ ," her answer was emphatic.

Cloud closed his eyes in relief and quiet thanks that she was over her initial reticence. "I'd kiss you," he murmured, voice dropping deeper, turning dark with desire and velvet with anticipation, "long and slow and deep, as if I'm not just this side of desperate to be inside you." It was a small thing, the smallest part of what he wanted to share, but something he was still hungry for: the taste of her mouth, the sweetness of her response. And he had to start somewhere, after all.

"Desperate?" Her tone was both teasing and skeptical. It prompted another low chuckle - little more than a soft rumble of sound - which started heat building in her bones.

"Almost. I've been hard practically from the moment your message started playing," he replied, starkly honest. Not even his lukewarm shower had deterred his rampant erection. "It's been a long time." And it had: over a month since they'd last been intimate – which had essentially been an accident – and a year long abstinence before that, their relationship having faltered due to misunderstandings. "I want this just as much as you do, Tifa." _More._

It was a heady thing for her to hear, more emotionally fulfilling than the knowledge that her phone call had affected him. Reassuring and inflaming all at once. "What else would you do?" she prompted, arousal slowly warming her skin and leaving her flushed and sensitive.

"That depends...are you still wearing my gloves?" Part hope, part dare, the question was pure unadulterated temptation. An invitation to lose herself in his voice and the illusion of his presence.

Reaching out to where the discarded gloves rested on the bedside table, she swiftly slid them over her fingers. Hitting the button for speaker, she nestled the hand-held close to her face as she sank back down on the mattress. "Yes."

He groaned. There was something incredibly sexy and unbelievably hot about the thought that Tifa was using something of _his_ to give herself release. "Then I'd touch you," he answered. "Sift my fingers through your hair, let them slide along your arm... rest my palm on your stomach." His skin remembered the soft strength of her flesh there, and the way she'd trembled and flexed under his explorations when they'd been together. "I'd cup one of your breasts in my hand, brush my thumb over your nipple – lightly, feather lightly – until your legs and hips began to twist in reaction to the teasing and you wanted my mouth instead."

She gave a soft moan, followed by another rustle of fabric, the shifting of springs. His mouth quirked at the sound, a twist of the lips that was both satisfied and appreciative. Moving down to lie flat on his back, he let his free hand take up a rhythm: slow, but steadily building toward orgasm.

In his room back at Seventh Heaven, Tifa pressed her thighs together and circled her hips as worn leather rubbed back and forth over her nipple as slowly as she could stand, the gentle friction creating an ache deep inside, causing her clit to swell and ask for attention. _This, this was what I needed before..._

"Then I'd switch to the other, and give it the same treatment," came his whisper, slightly hoarse, and her fingers slid between her breasts to follow his instructions.

 _When he finished, she'd be arching into him, her body damp with welcome and demanding more._

"I don't think I can go slow or easy," he warned long moments later when she whimpered into the phone, her breath coming faster. "I need to make sure you're ready to take me, hard and fast." She moaned in earnest at that, at the thought of it: his erection sliding into her, thick and long and hot. Parting her legs, she let her gloved hands wander down her body, playing briefly in dark curls and stroking lazily over the sensitive skin in the crease where body met thigh. Her hips jerked faintly in reaction, and she paused there, thumbs tracing slow, tantalizing patterns.

It was incredibly easy, now, to pretend that was his touch there, teasing her body into unfamiliar but welcome response while he considered how else to please them both.

"I want you to be close when I take you, so close you could come with a single stroke, the slightest touch." Pre-cum was once again leaking from the tip of his cock, and Cloud smeared the moisture down along the length with the next pass of his hand. _He_ was close, and hoped the suggestion would push her higher. Needed it to push her higher. "Are you wet for me, Tifa?" he asked, low and raw. "If I slid my hand between your legs, could you take my finger? Two? Three?"

" _Goddess_ , Cloud!" He adored the sweet, throaty tone of her need, the surprised excitement at his choice of words. Was grateful for the tight way she said his name, and how her breath came in little pants: she was almost there, too.

"Tell me," he pressed, urgency barely disguised by the roughness of his voice. "Tell me. Are you ready?"

Leather slid easily between her folds at his coaxing, instantly slick with her moisture. " _Yes_."

Breath hissed between his teeth. "Rub your thumb over your clit," he all but demanded, "just once, firm but wet, like it's the head of my cock." His words were no longer a suggestion but an order, directions for the best pretense he could give her. "Then thrust your fingers deep."

" _Cloud!_ " Her body was wound far tighter than when she'd tried this completely solo. She clenched around her fingers, close, so close...

"Back and forth," he was stroking faster and with less rhythm, the need for _friction friction friction_ singing through his blood, "take me."

"Want you," she gave a little mewl that almost sent him over, "need..."

"I've got you," he gritted out, on the very edge of holding back. "Other hand. Small, focused circles. Rapid." He sucked in air. "Come with me."

She keened in response, and he came with her sound of pleasure ringing in his ear.

" _Ohhhhh._ " Both hands between her legs, thighs clenched tight around them, Tifa sighed then smiled, big and foolish, as tension flowed out of her, giving way to first pleasure, then relaxation. On his end, Cloud gave a grunt of agreement, and she laughed. "I'm glad you called back," she said to the room at large, the phone still on speaker-mode.

"I'm glad you called first."

Silence then, save for the rustle of over-starched sheets as he reached for the towel he'd dropped on the bed, using it to wipe his hands, thighs, and groin clean again before tossing it into the bathroom to land on the floor. Pulling the sheet up, he ran a hand through his hair. "So..."

And she laughed again. "Cloud," it was teasing, coaxing... he could picture her smile, the chiding tilt of her head. As always, the way she said his name remade him, smoothed the rough spots, gave him confidence that he'd made the right decision.

He relaxed.

"I'll be home tomorrow night."

"Okay."

"And... I'll take care of you." Her words – her suggestion – used now as a promise.

"As well you should." _No more waiting._

More than one type of tension had been erased.

"Will _you_ take care of _me_?" Hopeful, but also a bit teasing.

"Of course." As if it were a given.

Because it was a given.

"Good."

And it would be.


End file.
